


Simple Machines, 1st Weekend

by AGDoren



Series: Weekends With Ichie [1]
Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Miscommunication
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-19
Updated: 2013-09-20
Packaged: 2017-12-27 00:55:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/972410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AGDoren/pseuds/AGDoren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Abbie sets some boundaries and teaches Ichabod a little more about the 21st century.</p>
          </blockquote>





	1. Simple Machines

Simple Machines

Abbie pushed a button and activated the windshield wipers. Water began to sloosh off the windshield and she spared a glance at her passenger. His entire face frowned as he strained forward against the seatbelt to study the windshield. His eyebrows drew together in a wide, dark V’, his nose wrinkled and scrunched his confusion, and his mouth came up and forward even as the corners of his lips turned downward in a frown. She wondered for just a second if he thought this was yet another new machine, but no Ichabod was nor stupid. She didn’t doubt that he understood that this was simply another function of the machine called car. Ignorance and stupidity were not the same thing.

Abbie pulled her eyes back to the road. You had to pay attention during the rain, people did stupid things.

Revolutionary war, 1776 right? They had machines didn’t they. Abbie tried to think as she kept her eyes on the road.The water wheel, the grandfather clock, the Cotton Jenny- No Spinning Jenny. The Cotton Jin was much later and much different. There was the printing press of course, she remembered that because that PBS kid’s show in the...late 90’s. Benjamin Franklin printed the Pennsylvania Gazette with it. It helped the war effort.

They came to a stop light and she looked over at Ichabod. He was sitting back now, his long, thin fingers stroked the buttons that worked the automatic windows. Abbie sighed and started to smile, as she released the lock-out on the passenger-side windows.

“Go ahead,” she dropped her gaze meaningfully to his fingers at the buttons. He lowered the window just a bit and cool, soft pellets of rain flittered through. He gazed at her with a delighted smile and she smiled back remembering the way he’d looked at her as he spoken of their shared destiny.


	2. Lines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abbie sets some boundaries and teaches Ichabod a little more about the 21st century.

 

“You live here alone?” Ichabod’s head turned in every direction as he tried to take in her small two room house.

A cop’s salary wasn’t a lot, but for a single woman with no bills and no health problems it was more than enough to make her comfortable. To let her buy a small house, furnish and decorate it the way she wanted and save and invest a little for her retirement.

“Yes I live here alone,” she said simply. 

“Its a large house for one person and forgive me, but I presumed when you invited me to remain here that you lived at least with a father or brother. That you would not,” he paused a moment and turned speculative blue eyes on her. ‘I assumed that you wouldn’t offer a man to reside in your home under--”

\--he paused again and Abbie felt her face tighten as she crossed her arms--

“under any other circumstances,” he finished.

“You think it’s indecent?” Abbie asked lips pursed as she waited for his reply.

“Well leftenant,” his voice took on that superior tone that she was learning to recognize as being the one he used when he disapproved of something in the modern world. “It could not be good for the reputation of an unmarried woman to have a man sleeping in her home, without a proper chaperone.”

Abbie felt a mix of anger and amusement.

“Let me make something clear to you Crane. It is a new world and along with the abolition of slavery we’ve also emancipated women.” She took a step forward. “And that means women wear pants, serve as lieutenants in armies and police forces,” Abbie counted off some of the changes on her fingers as she spoke, “women live alone and enforce the boundaries of their sexual activities on their own, without the help of any man unless they choose to have one present.”

He turned red on the word sexual and Abbie fought a smug smile.

“So lets set some boundaries right now Crane,” she took another step forward. “You have a bedroom, it’s the smaller one, you’ll sleep there, and you don’t have to worry about my sexual boundaries,” she took another step forward and settled one hand on her gun while holding his eyes, “anyone trying to cross my boundaries without my consent will be shot.”

Ichabod threw up his hands. 

“I-I would never,” he stammered the words and Abbie let herself flash a triumphant smile. 

“I know otherwise I wouldn't have invited you here,” she took a step backwards and relaxed her posture just a bit.

Abbie glanced out the window. It wasn’t quite yet dark, almost suppertime.

“Are you hungry?” 

Ichabod took his eyes off of her for just a moment to glance outside as well before nodding.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 Notes: Racism, race and race relations were growing into what we know now during the latter 1700's. I think Ichabod would probably have a harder time discarding sexist ideas and ideaology than with racism.


	3. Tea Time

 

She was too tired to cook them anything and none of the take-out choices excited her tonight. So Abbie opted for leftovers. Every weekend she cooked a few meals that reheated well, things like meatloaf, peanut and yam soup, or chicken cacciatore. This weekend’s meals were baked pasta with spinach, beef stew, and enchilada casserole.

She turned to Ichabod to ask him his preference and stopped. He was studying her kitchen devices with the same concentration he’d given to the windshield wipers in the car his head and eyes flitted from one gadget to the next, hands reaching out with curiosity, but never touching. He bent down to study her mixer and she shrugged, he wouldn’t know what any of the food was anyway. They’d go with her choice, baked pasta with a little extra sauce and cheese to keep it from drying out as it warmed and she’d steam some broccoli to go with it.

Her kitchen was large enough to hold a small dinette that seated four, it also offered comfortable counter space for food preparation and an open floor plan that separated the kitchen from the rest of the house with a breakfast bar that seated two others. For some reason when she’d bought the place she’d imagined lots of guests and friends.

The pasta went from the fridge to her toaster oven. The toaster oven would take longer than the microwave, but she didn’t like the way the microwave changed the taste of her food when it reheated. She mainly used the microwave for tea water, perhaps she’d make them some while they waited for dinner. The British liked tea didn’t they?

“Abbie,” he stretched the i and the e out as he said it, “what” another stretch of the vowels, “are all these devices?”

She looked over her shoulder in time to see Ichabod throw his hands up in dismay and fought down a smile. Crane was an intelligent man, even in 1776 it meant something to study at, much less teach at Oxford, and intelligence work, spying for the revolution took a certain level of analytical ability as well. Since arriving two days ago he hadn’t actually asked how a single gadget worked instead he took the time to observe and imitate her. Her kitchen must have truly baffled him.

“I can see that that is your stove and oven,” he pointed her electric stove out with ease, though she wondered if he would have figured out the new flat-top ranges.

“This,” he pointed to her standing mixer “is some sort of automated machine for mixing batters and sauces, but the rest of these,” he shook his head.

“That,” he pointed at the microwave, “looks like a cabinet, but it is not. That,” he moved to peer more closely at her toaster oven and held out one hand to feel the warmth it generated “must be another oven, but where you put the fire I cannot fathom. You took the food out of this cold box,” he said laying one hand against the refrigerator in wonder. “But the rest of these I cannot hazard a guess.”

“You did good,” she let herself smile then. “That is an automated mixer, this is my stove and oven. There is no fire its electric power. You guys had electricity didn’t you?”

Ichabod nodded.

“This is a toaster oven, this is a microwave oven. We call the cold box a refrigerator,” she paused while he pronounced refrigerator under his breath.

“This is my coffee maker, bread maker, and blender.”

“So many devices,” he said thoughtfully. “Women must have time to do whatever they please,” he said voice soft.

The sense of annoyance stirred briefly, but the wonder in his tone seemed sincere.

“Tell me Abbie do all the emancipated live as well as you?”

Her head cocked to one side.

_Emancipation again._

“You are clearly a very wealthy woman. Your home is small, but sound and pleasant as any lord’s.” His eyes roamed over her kitchen studying the different devices in turn. “You have three ovens and machines to make your bread, your coffee and mix your food. Surely it is a wealthy lifestyle.”

“You think-” she pressed a hand to her mouth to hold back laughter. He thought she was rich!

“There were arguments amongst abolitionist as to whether or not the African could do well in modern society. Some insisted that science would prove the African was inferior and must be sent back to their savage land. I disagreed of course-”

His eyes came away from her gadgets and landed on her face. Whatever he saw in her expression halted the flow of words.

“I’ve offended you again,” he said voice soft and she heard dismay in his tone. “Abbie,” he sat down on one of the bar stools and they were nearly eye to eye. “I’m a crabby, crotchety man on the best of days, now I am as out of time and place as any African stolen from their home. I am sure to offend you time and again.” He rubbed his hands on the marble countertop.

“Please do not hesitate to tell me so. We are compatriots in a very long war, and I want nothing, but peace and harmony between us, but I cannot always know when I am being offensive, not without help. I am relying on you, Abbie Mills to help me understand.”

His voice and tone were as soft as they’d been when he told her she was the second witness and that he had seen the four white trees too.

“All right,” she nodded. “I’ll tell you over tea.”

He smiled, an expression of pleasant surprise at the last and she filled two mugs with water and placed them in the microwave.

 

* * *

  
  
A/N- I may or may not do one more installment for the first weekend. Initially I wanted them to go to the library because he was a professor and he probably really enjoyed reading. I also had some thoughts of them discussing the printing press and computers and calculators and abcusses as Abbie wracks her brain trying to think of machines Ichabod might understand which leads to them going to the library, but then they got caught up in these little domestic things like food and shelter as we often do. I may do one weekend per episode, IDK yet. We'll just see how they shape up.   
  


 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> So I'd read a few man out of time fics and I wanted to do something slightly different than what I'd been seeing. Ichabod marveling over technology is interesting to me, but I've also written some cultural clashes and I may do some focused on Ichabod responding to how we interprete the constitution and all the modern corruption that we deal with.


End file.
